


better off sticking right where you are

by orphan_account



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-07
Updated: 2013-06-07
Packaged: 2017-12-14 04:57:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/833008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Evgeni Malkin and James Neal are inherently competitive people. This trait tends to carry over into every aspect of their lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	better off sticking right where you are

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aqualined (inabstract)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inabstract/gifts).



> this fic has been languishing half-finished in my drafts for MONTHS, and considering that this is actually my OTP and there is a sad, sad dearth of fic for my favorite couple, i knew i had to put on my big girl panties and finish it
> 
> now if i could only finish that geno/nealer primer....
> 
> unbetaed, so all mistakes are mine (and feel free to point them out)
> 
> title from Misplaced Devotion-Yellow by The Dear Hunter, which is the most quintessentially geno/nealer song i know

On nice off days, James liked to drag a protesting Geno out of bed, round up the dogs, and go out to the lake to fish. He’s got a nice boat, and Geno loves fishing, no matter how much he grumbles every time they go. So on an off day in late April, when it’s finally sunny and warm for once, he elbows and shoves Geno into the shower and goes downstairs to stare at the coffee machine.

If he were a good boyfriend, he’d probably make Geno breakfast, but he’d also ideally like Geno to be in a good mood and not in the bathroom all morning, so instead he flops on one of Geno’s ridiculous Pens chairs and watches some weird cartoons while he waits for Geno to get downstairs.

When he hears Geno’s thudding footsteps downstairs, he leaps up and dashes into the kitchen, quickly pouring out a cup and holding it out for Geno with his best angelic expression. Geno snorts and mutters darkly at him in Russian, taking the coffee and shoving him out of the way so he can rummage through the fridge. James’s grin widens.

“Love you too, honeybunch,” he singsongs, stealing Geno’s coffee and taking a long gulp. Geno turns his head towards James sharply and glares at him, but his mouth is twitching so James figures his charms have won Geno over yet again. He takes a moment to feel smug about this, which is shattered with a hard smack to his back.

“Ow!” James complains, grinning. 

“I’m make you breakfast,” Geno reminds him, grinning back mischievously. “Go, pack for fishing. Feed dogs too.” He flaps his hands at James. shooing him out. “Get out of here.”

“If breakfast is just cereal I’m punching you,” James tells him cheerfully and he goes to greet his and Geno’s very excitable dogs. Well, Jeffrey was excited to see him, leaping on James and nearly toppling him over. Reggie ignores him completely to lope into the kitchen and investigate what Geno was cooking (his beloved misshapen blini, most likely). 

“You love Geno more than you love me!” James calls at her retreating back, before turning back to Jeffrey and giving him an extra bellyrub in thanks for his loyalty. Jeffrey pants happily and licks a stripe up James’s hand in thanks.

Reggie comes streaking back in from the kitchen soon enough, where Geno had probably instantly softened under her big sad eyes and snuck her scraps from the stove. She sits impatiently by her bowl and glares up at James for making her wait for her breakfast.

“Alright, alright,” James mutters, wondering absently if he should be concerned that he was cowed by his own dog. Jeffrey beams up at him cheerfully, nosing at his feet. James quickly feeds them and flees before they could bully him into giving them more. 

He drags the cooler out of the garage and hops around the house, grabbing fishing gear and beer and chips. He lugs it all in Geno’s Range Rover and hurries back to the kitchen, where Geno had started eating without him, the asshole. He smacks Geno’s shoulder when he passed by to get his plate. Geno rolls his eyes and pours him out a glass of orange juice placatingly. James takes it and briefly squeezes Geno’s knee in thanks, and Geno scoots in closer so they were pressed close against each other from knees to hips, Geno a solid warmth against him.

They eat in comfortable, familiar silence, only broken by the dogs padding back in to beg for scraps. Geno breaks away to coo at them in Russian. Geno gets ridiculously mushy about his pets, James knew all too well. 

Once Geno’s finished praising their dogs (and trying to sneakily give them people food, honestly, James is _right there_ , he can see) he gives James a cheerful grin and takes their plates away to be forgotten in the sink all day. 

“You get everything ready, lazy?” Geno asks him, dumping the dishes with a loud clang.

“Hey fuck you, I was packing everything up while you were still bitching in the shower,” James snaps at him. Geno laughs at him.

“Never see anyone pack up while on couch,” Geno points out. James huffs impatiently.

“ _Whatever_. I still did all the work while you were flouncing around in the kitchen,” James scowls.

“Flouncing,” Geno pronounces the word dubiously, looking puzzled.

“Yeah, like prancing or whatever- this isn’t the point,” James waves a hand exasperatedly. “C’mon let’s _go_ , the lake is waiting and I want to catch a bigger fish than you.”

Geno scoffs. “Please. With such bad hands?”

“ _Bad hands_ , please, you _love_ my hands, you said so last night,” James fumes. “They weren’t such bad hands when they were getting you off, eh?”

Geno sniffed primly. “I’m forgotten.” He pauses to smile slyly at James. He just looks dumb. “Maybe Nealsy have to remind me?”

“God, what a charmer,” James says dryly, hurriedly shooing the dogs back out into the living room and putting up the dog gate. He turns around to face Geno, who’s still smirking at him, and James stalks toward him, backing Geno against the counter and standing between his legs. “How can I resist.”

“Impossible,” Geno teases, and then James leans in and kisses his grinning mouth to shut him up. Geno’s mouth opens up obediently for James, and he sucks hard on James’s bottom lip, nipping teasingly and groaning when James impatiently shoves a hand down Geno’s boxers. Geno’s half hard, and his dick twitches promisingly under James’s fingers as he strokes his thumb under the head of Geno’s cock, then tightens his grip and pumps once, twice, under Geno moaning ridiculously loud into James’s mouth and thrusting desperately into his hand. It doesn’t take long at all for Geno to come, tensing all over and leaning his head back, panting. The movement exposes the long, pale line of his throat invitingly, and James ducks his head to suck a dark bruise under his ear.

James takes a moment to admire his work, and then Geno’s lifting his head and smiling goofily at him, looking like an idiot like he always does post-coitus. James wonders what it says about him that he’s so attracted to him. 

“Nealsy’s turn, yes?” Geno asks, his voice turned low and rumbly with sex.

“You’re fucking right it’s my turn,” James tells him, a little breathless. Geno grins and his eyes go dark and promising, and he quickly flips them around so James is pressed back against the kitchen counter. He starts kissing his way down James’s neck, pushing up his t-shirt to lave at James’s bellybutton and pressing wet, sucking kisses to the knobs of James’s hips, cheerfully ignoring James’s threats to hurry it along.

“C’mon, G, I want to get the lake sometime today,” James tells him exasperatedly, ignoring the way his breath hitches when Geno traces the line of James’s abs with his stupidly clever tongue.

“Oh, no want?” Geno asks him innocently, lifting his head. “We go now, then.”

“Shut up and suck my dick,” James grunts and shoves Geno’s head back down, gritting his teeth as Geno’s chuckles vibrate straight to his cock. Geno pulls James’s boxers down to his ankles and beams at how James’s dick bobs against his stomach.

“You’re not going to say hello to it, are you?” James asks. Geno shoots him a disgruntled look.

“Was you, remember?” Which, whatever, he’d been super drunk at the time, he couldn’t be blamed for admiring his boyfriend’s dick, could he? And if he got a little vocal about it, well, Geno hadn’t complained at the time.

James finally reaches the end of his admittedly limited reserve of patience, and fists a hand in Geno’s short hair, and lowers him down onto his dick. Geno’s chuckle vibrates against the head of his cock, but he bobs his head obediently, taking James in hand and slowly working his way down til his mouth met his fist and swallowing around him. James tilts his head back and groans, fist tightening in Geno’s hair and fighting not to thrust his hips down Geno’s throat. Geno likes it, James knows, but he still feels an obligation to not choke his boyfriend with his dick before they ever make it to the lake. Geno moans encouragingly around James’s cock, one hand sneaking back to rub teasingly at his opening, and that’s it. James’s hips stutter and he comes down Geno’s throat, and pets his hair weakly. Geno pulls off and gives James’s dick one last parting kiss, and his dick twitches feebly in response. Geno wipes his mouth and grins up at him, and James tugs at his shoulders to get him to stand up. Geno scrambles to oblige, and James leans in to kiss the taste of himself out of Geno’s mouth. 

They kiss for a while, sloppy and wet, and James idly entertains the thought of not going to the lake at all, of just staying in and spending a precious off day curled up on the couch making fun of Geno’s stupid movies. But then he thinks about how sweet it would be to finally catch a bigger fish than Geno and he pulls away, ignoring how Geno whines and tries to follow his mouth.

“No,” James tells him sternly. “We going to the lake, and I’m going to catch the biggest fish you ever saw, because I’m the best at fishing.”

Geno snorts. “I best. You’re on.”

So they round up the dogs _again_ ,and go out to hitch James’s boat to Geno’s Range Rover, and they’re finally off.

By the time they finally get to the lake, the sun is fairly high in the sky, a fact James blames at Geno for.

“If _someone_ hadn’t gotten all distracted at breakfast today, maybe we’d be here a little earlier and actually catch some fish,” James tells Geno snappishly. Geno rolls his eyes at him.

“Maybe not blame me for bad fishing skills,” Geno tells him in that annoyingly smug voice, like he knows he’s better and James is only proving him right. 

“Whatever,” James sniffs at him. “You can eat it when I catch the biggest fish.”

“How about,” Geno says coyly, a knowing smirk on his lips, “if you catch biggest fish, you can do whatever you like to me, yes? And if _I_ catch biggest fish....” He leers at James, lets the bet hang in the air between them, a warm, teasing promise.

“You’re on,” James says rashly. There was nothing in life not improved by a little healthy competition, James believes. Especially when the prize was so sweet.

~~~~

They clamber onto the boat and speed off, Geno at the helm. This is James’s favorite part, the part he always tries to seal into his brain to look back later on. The hot May sun beating down on them, the spray of the lake on his face, the dogs barking joyfully at the water. Geno grinning back at him, wide enough to hurt and blindingly happy. The lake is pretty clear of other boats, not surprising given that it was Tuesday morning still, and if James wanted to, he could pretend that they were the only people in the entire world.

Then the boat slowed and James jerks out of his pleasant, sunsoaked daydreaming, getting excited as he always does to start fishing. Geno clambers down from his perch at the wheel to press a fleeting kiss to James’s mouth, then moves past him to dig through their coolers and bags to start baiting his pole.

“Gonna win,” he goads James, grinning lopsidedly over his bait hook. It shouldn’t be so attractive, not with his hands slick and disgusting with bait, but James has never been objective when it comes to Geno, anyway.

“In your dreams,” James tells him, scoffing. He’s maybe a little belated in his response, distracted by the soft curve of Geno’s dimples and his sloping shoulders. He shakes himself out of it, ignoring Geno’s grin twitching into a knowing smirk, and elbows him out of the way, wriggling past Geno to get to the bait himself. They’d both divested themselves of their shirts almost immediately, and Geno’d folded them neatly into his bag. So when James huddles over his hook, struggling with the bait, he can feel the solid warmth of Geno’s chest pressed along his side. 

Geno’s done first, of course he is, and casts out his line. “Got head start, Nealsy,” he reminds him tauntingly, as if James didn’t already know. 

“First is the worst, second is the best,” James tells him haughtily, and tries not to feel immediately embarrassed that he used a kindergarten rhyme to gain the upper hand on his boyfriend.

“Spoken like second place,” Geno says sagely, returning his attention to his line. 

“Hey!” James starts, and then fumes quietly when Geno doesn’t turn around. He knows Geno is laughing at him even with his back turned, and he huffs and casts his line out the other side of the boat. 

Time drifts by as they both settle into silent camaraderie, waiting for the first catch of the day. Heady sunshine seems to drip down James’s spine like warm honey, and he feels pleasantly foggy. He’d packed some of his ( _not_ terrible, thanks very much Geno) beer, but moving to get some feels like much effort right now. 

Mercifully Geno picks that moment to root around in their coolers for a sandwich. “Grab me a beer, eh G?” he asks hopefully.

“Lazy,” Geno tuts at him fondly, and presses the cold can to the side of James’s face. James startles a little at the sudden cold, and snatches the can and glares up at Geno.

“You welcome,” Geno tells him sweetly, smiling down at him and, ugh. That smile really should be registered as a legal form of assault. It’s not fair what Geno can get away with when he smiles like that, and he unfortunately knows it.

James bats him away, and Geno returns to his post. James drinks his beer and goes back to waiting for a fish. It’s been a slow morning, he notes with a little disappointment.

No sooner had he thought it then he felt a tug on his line. “Ha, I got one!” he crows to Geno smugly, who turns to watch him interestedly. 

“I hope you’re ready for a long night,” he taunts Geno proudly, reeling in. “This guy’s gonna be a monster, I can tell.”

It’s not a monster, not even close. It’s an immature brown trout, barely seven inches long. Geno laughs himself sick. James tosses the fish back in the lake glumly.

“Oh shut up,” he snaps at Geno waspishly. “At least I caught one, unlike you.”

Geno’s chest heaves, trying to calm down enough to speak. “Nealsy caught one half!” he manages to gasp out, before doubling over again in peals of laughter.

“I hate you,” James mutters darkly, rebaiting his hook. Geno keeps laughing, to the point where James wonders if he’s about to pass out. Jeffrey apparently has a similar concern, and ambles up the deck to nose cautiously at his master’s leg. 

“Don’t bother with him, Jeff, he’s gone,” James advises him. Geno finally calmed down enough to wipe his eyes and pet Jeffrey reassuringly. He’s still grinning at James, though, which is enough to make James scowl at him.

“It wasn’t that funny,” he tells him sourly. 

“Yes,” Geno disagrees happily, leaning over to brush his mouth briefly over James. James grumbles a little more, but they both know he’s forgiven Geno already.

They sit around for another twenty minutes, Geno laying on his back, fishing pole buckled into his waist holster. Geno gets a tug on his line next, and he straightens up excitedly, reeling in his catch. He gets a gorgeous walleye, nearly three feet long.

“Ugh, shut up,” James groans. 

“Did not say anything,” Geno reminds him primly, but the huge grin on his face makes James want to smack him anyway. 

“Whatever, put it in the cooler,” James shoves at him lightly. Geno obediently puts the trout away in the smaller cooler they’d brought for the fish, and miraculously doesn’t taunt him any more than that.

The catch picks up as morning turns into afternoon, but disappointingly, James doesn’t catch anything bigger than Geno’s walleye. Luckily, neither does Geno. The sun starts dipping toward the western horizon, and as it approaches five in the evening, James admits to himself that it looks like Geno’s won the bet. He sighs heavily and is about to ask Geno if he’s ready to pack it in when he feels a hard tug on his line. He struggles to reel in his catch, getting more and more excited the harder he tries to get his fish. Finally he reels his fish out of the water and it’s-

A striped bass, easily six inches longer than Geno’s walleye.

“Yes!” he shouts, hastily dumping his catch into the cooler. He whirls around to face Geno triumphantly. “That’s bigger than yours, Malkin, I win!”

Geno doesn’t seem terribly disappointed for someone who just lost a bet. “Yes, good job, Nealsy, you win,” he tells him amusedly.

“You’re damn right I win,” he tells him heatedly. “That means you’re gonna spend tonight on your knees for me.”

Geno presses a chaste kiss to James’s mouth. “Sound good,” he says cheerfully, eyes sparkling with mischief.

James frowns. “You know, this would work a lot better if you at least pretended to be disappointed you lost.”

“Hardly losing, though,” Geno points out smugly. James stares at him, realizing. 

“You fucking rigged the bet, you bastard- you just wanted to see me riled up!”

“Worked,” Geno points out again, and he’s barely keeping from laughing, that asshole.

“Shut up,” he tells Geno grumpily. Geno grins again. James’s cheeks hurt just looking at him.

“Should gag me, yes?” Geno suggests impishly.

“I won, that means I decide what I do to you,” James says bossily, though he privately agrees that it sounds like a good idea. Maybe later.

They pack all their stuff in and start to head back to the shore, Geno teasing him the whole way back. 

“You wouldn’t be so mouthy if you knew what I had planned for you,” James tells him, trying to intimidate him, though he doubt it works. To be honest, he’s not actually sure what he’s going to do to cash in the bet. Geno’s always been the leader between the two of them, always been more adventurous, bossy and assertive in bed, even when he bottomed. Having the reins is... different.

He thinks a lot about this on the drive home, he and Geno eating the last of the sandwiches. A stupid pop song comes on and Geno starts singing along loudly, mouth full and only knowing a third of the words. James laughs at him and feels inexplicably lighter than he did a moment before.

~~~~

James feels restless the moment Geno closes the front door behind them. The need to grab Geno, to kiss him, to do _something_ is buzzing insistently under his skin. But they need to feed the dogs and put the fish in the freezer. James would be fine leaving it at that, but Geno is exasperatingly meticulous about housekeeping, and insists on washing everything out and then doing the dishes from that morning, and by the time everything is cleaned to Geno’s satisfaction, James is about to go insane with restless energy.

The moment Geno turns from the dishes, finished, James grabs his hand, grumbling. “Fucking _finally_ ,” he bitches.

“Impatient,” Geno teases him, but allows himself to be dragged along to their bedroom obediently, firmly closing the door before Reggie can squirt in. James immediately backs him against the door, kissing him hard. The way Geno moans and opens his mouth for James tastes like victory.

Geno and James’s relationship is a constant strong of competitions, and their kisses are no different. James kisses Geno hard, lips and teeth and tongue, and Geno gives back as good as he gets. One hand sneaks up into Geno’s short hair and tugs hard, and Geno goes, gasping and baring his neck for James. It’s still mottled with bruises from that morning and James revisits them, biting and sucking dark red marks into Geno’s slender neck. James pulls back, and Geno drops his head back down and grins at James, hot and promising. James grins back and pulls Geno toward the bed. 

He shoves Geno down to sit on the edge of the bed in front of him, and starts unzipping his pants. Geno, ever the clever one, catches on immediately and helps James out of his pants, stroking exploratory hands up James’s thick thighs, grabbing handfuls of James’s ass and squeezing. He tugs James a little closer and buries his face in James’s groin, inhaling. 

“Smell like fish,” he rumbles, not looking up. James can feel the curve of his smile against his thigh and huffs out an annoyed laugh.

“Fuck you, I do not,” he says a little breathlessly. “And get on with it, god.”

Geno, taking the spirit of the bet seriously, does. He sucks James’s dick into his mouth, and oh god, James will never, _ever_ be over the slick heat of Geno’s mouth on his cock. He recalls one of his teammates in juniors telling him that Russian girls gave the best head. It was the language, he’d said; it required a talented tongue. James huffed out a laugh at the memory, and then Geno, perhaps irritated that his attention was wandering, did something wicked with his tongue under the head of James’s dick, and James, gasping, thrusts up instinctively. Geno chokes a little but gamely keeps with it, taking one of James’s hands and guiding it to his hair.

“I’m supposed to be in charge tonight,” he points out to Geno weakly, tangling his fingers in Geno’s hair. Geno gives him a look, clearly saying _then take charge, idiot_. James tightens his hold and thrusts again into Geno’s mouth. Geno’s eyes slide closed and he groans around James’s cock.

It doesn’t take James long at all to get close, and he pulls Geno off quickly. “Get undressed,” he orders, “and get on your back.” Geno hurries to comply. 

James shucks off the rest of his clothes and climbs on top of Geno. He takes Geno’s hands and wraps them around the headboard. “Stay,” he breathes into Geno’s mouth, and barely waits for Geno’s answering nod to lower his head that half an inch to lick into Geno’s soft, waiting mouth. 

He relaxes all his weight onto Geno, and it’s nice, being with someone big enough to be able to handle him. He likes how Geno handles him. But tonight, he’ll be the one leading and Geno will be following. He thinks briefly of Geno’s suggestion of gagging him, but to be honest, James likes Geno’s sex voice, his accent thick and curling around his vowels like melted chocolate, far too much to gag him. 

He runs his eyes down Geno’s torso and gets an idea. He wriggles down the bed to kneel between Geno’s spread legs. Geno’s done this to him a few times, and he really, _really_ likes it, but he’s never had the courage to return the favor before. 

He gets the lube and condoms out from the bedside table and slicks up his fingers, pressing one into Geno’s ass slowly. Geno sighs and clenches his hands on the headboard, then relaxes into the bed. James crooks his finger until he’s prodding at Geno’s prostate and Geno is squirming around on the bed. James takes his finger out then, ignoring Geno’s noise of protest, and pushes Geno’s legs around until he’s bent nearly in half, ass in the air. He takes a deep breath and licks a stripe up the crease of Geno’s ass, relishing Geno’s shocked gasp. 

He licks into Geno’s hole, fucking him with his tongue until Geno is making tiny _ah-ah-ah_ noises and trembling with the effort of staying still. He pushes his fingers back in alongside his tongue, and Geno shouts when they find his prostate, pressing insistently. He fucks Geno with tongue and fingers until Geno at last goes, “Fuck, _James_ ,” and bucks under his fingers. 

James removes his fingers again, leaving one last kiss to Geno’s slick hole, and reaches for the condom, rolling it on. He spreads Geno’s legs so they’re wrapped around him waist, and leans in to kiss Geno lingeringly on the mouth, reaching between them to guide himself in at the same time. 

Geno hisses at the stretch, and James kisses him again to distract him. He reaches up to wrap one hand around Geno’s wrists, gripping them tightly. Geno groans into his mouth and squeezes his legs around James’s hip, urging him deeper. James swears and starts thrusting into him steadily. James never gets tired of how Geno feels around him, tight and hot, as demanding as the rest of him. 

He fucks into Geno, and Geno goads him on breathlessly, grinning that stupid lopsided grin. 

“Go so slow,” he complains. “So lazy. Make me do all the work.”

So James fucks him harder to shut him up, fucks him faster and deeper until the only noises Geno’s making are little gasping moans, speechless. It seems like barely any time at all that James is close, so close, and he’s lost all sense of rhythm, thrusting frantically into Geno, needing just a little bit more to push him over. 

Then Geno goes tense all over and shouts out something that might have been James’s name, and comes all over both their stomachs. It’s enough to bring James with him, and he thrusts in one more time before coming as well, panting into Geno’s shoulder. He collapses onto Geno fully, and Geno lets out a little _oof_ before his massive hands are carding through James’s damp hair.

They lay there quietly, coasting on the afterglow together, until Geno conspicuously wipes his hand on the bedsheets. 

“Hey!” James protests, too tired to do anything but laugh into Geno’s collarbone. 

“Your hair _so_ gross,” Geno tells him earnestly, voice rich with barely withheld laughter. 

“Whatever,” James mutters tiredly.

In a few minutes the mess on their stomachs will become too sticky and uncomfortable for even James to stand. The dogs will whine and scratch at the door, and James stomach will rumble unhappily. 

But for right now, James can’t think of a more perfect place in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm actually quite pleased with how this turned out. dialogue and characterization are two areas that are... not my strongest, so i used this fic to help me practice. there's still lots of room for improvement, but i think i've definitely benefitted from this exercise
> 
> also i just realized i wrote james vocally greeting geno's genitals in two separate fics, why am i like this
> 
> i'm always looking for more ideas for these two, feel free to send me my way if you have any!


End file.
